


Mongrel

by Havre_de_Poubelle



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Insomnia, Losing Humanity, M/M, Mentions of Blood, Self-Esteem Issues, Suicidal Thoughts, the fork - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:42:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23151910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Havre_de_Poubelle/pseuds/Havre_de_Poubelle
Summary: One can never guess their story’s end, as Newt came soon to find out. Sometimes, you can do everything right, and still have everything go all wrong. And Hermann could only stand and watch as he tore himself apart.
Relationships: Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb





	Mongrel

Newt Geiszler was afraid. Not for himself, but for the world. For the world he was destroying with Hermann still in it.

"Go, Newt. You must fight for it," Hermann had said.

It was a thing to hear someone else say that. A bit of an illusion, maybe, that he could live without the pain and the hurt and the fear and the boredom, but he must not let it happen.

_You wanted me to fight for a world that died. But I could not. I could not even hear you._

That is what happened to Newt in the cave.

The cave that led out of the volcano.

Before he could find the Stone of Destiny, he was attacked by the Kaiju. The Cave of Destiny was too small for Newt to hold himself up in it, so he had to use a fork to reach it.

He reached the cave, but before he could retrieve his crystal (the most precious thing in the world) it was kidnapped by the Precursors.

We have the Precursors to thank for Newt's misfortune. Not for stealing Newt's crystal, but for taking him off to the cave, of all places.

They went down to the cave with him, and Newt couldn't sleep. There was no need to, of course. He had driven away the enemy, not killed them. With knives or lances or whatever, he had torn them into little pieces before their eyes, but he had no way of knowing how many were still alive or even how many there might still be. Such things are mysterious after all.

Hermann lay under the oak tree, and tried to forget the doom of which he was afraid. He wanted to die. He wanted to die completely. His child. His wife. They were all dead. He looked across the marsh toward the man on the edge of the woods. He tried to think about that, about all of it. About the years of suffering which he had passed through, and about all that might yet be to come. But there was no thinking. He was all there was to think about. There was no reason for thought, and so the whole child within him died. Hermann listened, then, while the terrible laugh of the woodsman's laugh could still be heard, and it sounded like Newton. He heard the footsteps grow fainter and fainter, the rustling of the trees and the peals of the rain, the howl of the coyote, the growl of the wolf, the roar of the waterfall, the crash of the rocks on the beach and the shouts of the islanders. And, through the thick and damp darkness of the night, he heard the clanging of chainmail on chainmail, the ringing of the tower bells on their golden chain.

" _Mongrel!_ " Hermann cried, and ran. He ran straight to the lighthouse, and there, there in the roof of the tower, he found the Red Guard Newton, his teeth gleaming with blood.

And Hermann could not blame him. He had slain the sky-hoppers, and a hundred sea-monsters, and countless rivers and streams. In spite of his excellence, he had failed, and on account of this one thing he had lost his way, and all that they had spent, and all their time and pains, and his own had been lost in the narrow escape of that wild uproar in the attic. Newton had lost his human form. Now he was just a monster of the Abyss, from which no human beings ever returned. He could not have cared less. It was meaningless for his own humanity, even the dumbest kind of humanity, to struggle. He was only a beast, an animal, a beast that should have gone to sleep, like the beasts that had had the same fate done to them. The claws of this treacherous monster were cutting into Newton's bones with its perforated claws. He knew that he must die or the others would die, so he begged for mercy, as a man does when he has no friends, but he could not get it.


End file.
